


Traditions

by Elim9



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bonfires, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Halloween, Haunted Houses, M/M, Popcorn, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 22:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elim9/pseuds/Elim9
Summary: Crowley had a hand in starting one Halloween tradition.  Aziraphale had a hand in another.  A few months after Arma-didn't, they start one together.Fluff. Unapologetic fluff.





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).

**A long time ago…**

Aziraphale watched the flames dance from a distance. There was a chill in the air – a chill that had ruined a good part of the village’s crop, leaving them with a large pile of dry, hard corn not too far away from the bonfire they’d built. Still, they were dancing around the fire, celebrating what food they had. A very human thing to do – finding a reason to celebrate even when times were certain to be hard this winter. Ineffable, really. He did so like that about them.

They were even singing – loud and joyous, the sound echoing through the night. As he listened, though, he became aware of another melody, weaving back and forth through the first. Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat – a reaction he made a valiant effort to attribute to fright. That was only right and proper, wasn’t it? Being frightened of a demon. It wasn’t anything else. _ Couldn’t _be anything else.

And it certainly couldn’t be any_one _ else drifting through the crowd of humans, a dark shape even against the night. Aziraphale resisted the urge to step closer. Whatever Crowley was doing here, it didn’t involve him. Couldn’t _ possibly _ involve him. It was just that he’d never heard the demon _ sing _before.

It only stood to reason, of course, that he _ could _ . It was in their blood, or their genes, or … Oh, he’d been around humans too long. It was part of their _ nature_, singing. This song was unlike anything he’d ever heard in Heaven. It was strange and haunting and yet far too beautiful to be something from Hell. Really, the only way to describe it was that it was … well, _ human _.

It wasn’t long before the humans picked up the tune, the mysterious melody twisting with their own cheer into something that was dark and mischievous and enthralling. As Aziraphale watched, Crowley crossed to the other side of the fire, picked up an ear of corn, and studied it. Almost absent-mindedly, he plucked one of the kernels and tossed it into the flames.

If the villagers noticed, they didn’t seem to care. The corn was rock-hard, anyway. Some of the children had been using it in an attempt to pound sticks into the frozen ground. Crowley plucked another kernel, and then another, tossing each one in turn into the flames.

This time, Aziraphale _ did _take a step closer. Then another. What was he doing? One by one, the kernels dropped into the fire. When he was left with only a husk in his hands, Crowley sauntered lazily over to where Aziraphale was now standing – much closer than he’d thought he had been only a few moments ago. Crowley nodded. “Angel.”

Aziraphale barely had time to put on his best admonishing look. “Really, my dear. Burning up some of the little food they have?”

Crowley’s eyes twinkled in the light of the fire. “Oh, come now, Angel. It was frozen solid. I was just warming it up, and … wait … wait …”

_ Pop! _ Aziraphale had been bracing himself for something, but this sound was certainly _ not _ what he had expected. Clearly, the villagers hadn’t been expecting it, either, and almost all of them leapt back in fright as creamy white bits of … something … burst from the fire. Aziraphale jumped back, just as startled as the rest. “What did you _ do _?”

A snake-like smile was Crowley’s only response, but Aziraphale got his answer soon enough, however, when one of the children worked up the courage to investigate and, being a child, immediately popped one of the small objects into her mouth. “Taste it!” she insisted, passing the morsels around. “It’s delicious.”

Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “You … you gave them food.”

“Already had food,” Crowley reasoned. “I was just giving them a little sscare. How was I s’posed to know they could still eat it?”

Right. Just a little scare. That made sense. That was what demons were _ supposed _to do, after all. But as Crowley turned and sauntered away into the night, it seemed to Aziraphale that the pile of corn was just a little larger than it had been before, and the fire a little brighter. But that was probably his imagination, wasn’t it?

* * *

**Not as long ago…**

The humans had taken the idea and run with it. They always did. It was part of their charm. They took anything new and exciting and built off of it in strange, unexpected, ridiculous ways. Crowley eyed the crowd as he paced his way around another fire, this one set up in a town square. The townspeople were dressed as a variety of goblins and ghouls and ghosts. It was as if his stunt with the popcorn all those years ago had put it into their heads that it was _ fun _to be scared.

And that was all well and good, the humans getting carried away with the idea. The problem was that some of his fellow demons had started to do the same. Most demons, as a rule, were not particularly inclined to show themselves among humans, or to act openly. They preferred to lurk in the shadows, in the background, in whispers and in thoughts, rather than to appear openly to human beings.

Part of this was a matter of practicality. Taking human shape was a bit of a hassle if one wasn’t used to it, and the fact of the matter was, most demons hadn’t spent nearly enough time on earth to get used to the idea. So most demons, as a rule, kept a bit of a low profile.

But there were exceptions to every rule, especially when it came to nature. Like that one particular kind of fish that could be both a freshwater and saltwater fish. Or those weird mammals down in Australia that laid eggs. What were those called? Crowley held a hand over the flames, trying to think. It started with a p, he was pretty sure. Or maybe an e.

Crowley’s dark brow wrinkled. It wasn’t important. The point was, there were a growing number of demons who had gotten it into their heads that this time of year was a bit safer to come out of the shadows around humans. After all, with so many people running around dressed as all manner of ugly-looking creatures, who would notice a stray demon or two in the mix?

He could already sense a few of them, lurking in the shadows, probably wondering what he was up to. The truth was, he hadn’t been up to much of _ anything. _ He’d simply been in the neighborhood. It was as good a neighborhood as any, and he’d heard rumors about a good bakery in town. An almost _ miraculously _good bakery.

Then Crowley saw him. He was wearing a mask, as so many of the humans around him were, but there was no mistaking the familiar, round figure. Crowley stepped to one side as the angel crossed the square, a few small children in tow, wearing similar masks and carrying … baskets? Empty baskets, at that.

Crowley watched out of the corner of his eye as the angel and the three children approached a door at the end of one of the streets. A demon was lurking at the other end. Crowley took a step closer. Had Aziraphale noticed? He _ had _to have noticed. It wasn’t the sort of thing he could miss. Why was he heading that way?

Before Crowley could move any closer, however, Aziraphale rapped on the door. “Now, just like I told you,” he whispered to the children. Or, at least, it was probably supposed to be a whisper. The door opened, and the children screamed, “Boo!” The gasp of surprise from behind the door was followed by a chorus of young voices shouting, “Trick or treat!”

What?

Aziraphale winked. The movement was quick, but even behind the mask, Crowley caught it. “Oh, you want a _ treat _,” the woman behind the door gushed. “How sweet.”

“Yeah!” one of the children piped up. “Treats!”

“Or we’ll play a trick on you,” explained a second.

“A nasty trick!” added the third, not wanting to be left out.

“Yeah, really nasty,” the first echoed. “And you don’t want _ that _.”

It was only after the children had been given several apples and a few cookies that Crowley noticed the other demon had gone. Aziraphale quickly ushered the children off to another house, and then another. A few doors down, he apparently decided they’d gotten the hang of it, and returned to the square, where Crowley tilted his head incredulously. “Give us treats or we’ll play a nasty trick on you?” he teased.

Aziraphale’s plump hands adjusted his mask before he finally decided it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to get it to stay in place. “Oh, well, I had to do _ something _ . If _ you _weren’t going to stop them popping up everywhere, I figured I might as well convince them their job was already done.”

“I don’t follow,” Crowley admitted.

“I saw them, you know. The demon at the end of the street. Hurried off as soon as they saw the kids frightening an old woman out of her wits. Not a bad show, don’t you think?”

“Won’t someone … Up There … be upset about that sort of thing?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Not when the streets are full of people giving treats to children out of the generosity of their hearts. Ought to keep both sides happy. I reckon we won’t see too many more of them tonight.”

Both sides. “You mean you’ve seen some of yours around, too?”

“A few.”

Crowley smirked. “Thought you’d be glad for the company.”

Aziraphale fidgeted with one of his buttons. “Yes, well, they didn’t seem all that interested in joining the _ fun_, you see. Mostly just wanted to stand around and wait for the right moment to smite an evildoer or two, or some such. I tried to explain that this is a party, but … What’s so funny?”

Crowley stopped chuckling long enough to answer. “You’re right. It’s a party. We should be enjoying it.” He snaked an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders and plucked a candied apple from the angel’s basket. His fellow demons hadn’t been interested in joining the party, either. But he and Aziraphale were different. Like those weird mammals…

“Echidnas!” Crowley realized, grinning.

Aziraphale looked up, startled. “What, the funny little anteater things down in Australia? What about them?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s have a drink. And maybe some cake. I hear there’s this excellent bakery in town.”

* * *

**A few months after the world didn’t end…**

“You want me to … haunt your house?” Crowley asked, still more than a little baffled

“No, no, my dear,” Aziraphale answered patiently from his seat in the back room of the bookshop. “I want you to help me set _ up _a haunted house. Here in the bookshop. The children come in, we frighten them, give them candy, and they go on their way. It’s right up your lane, I should think.”

“Alley.”

“Pardon?”

“Right up my _ alley _.” Crowley squirmed a little on the couch, finding a slightly more comfortable position. “Why?”

Aziraphale fidgeted with one of his buttons. “You really need a reason to give people a little scare?”

Crowley snorted. “Me? No. But _ you_? Welcoming a bunch of messy little kids into your precious bookshop just to give them a little scare?” He leaned forward a little, nearly tipping off the couch as he reached for the bottle of wine. “What’s this really about, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed heavily. It was no use pretending this was just about having fun. “Well, things have been awfully quiet these last few months.”

Crowley smirked. “Have they? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Crowley.”

Crowley slid his sunglasses off. “You’re worried that they’re planning something Up There,” he realized. “Or Down There. Or both.”

“Well, we did have a spot of trouble all those years ago, with them thinking Halloween would be a good season to go about unnoticed. And I was thinking about what you said, about … about the big one.”

Crowley nodded. It had only been an offhand thought – that the really ‘big one’ would be all of Heaven and Hell against humanity. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. He hadn’t meant to make Aziraphale worry. If there _ was _ something in the works, it would probably take centuries for anybody to get things rolling. It had taken six thousand years the _ first _time, after all.

But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he slid over a little on the couch, patting one of the cushions. Aziraphale accepted the offer gratefully, and Crowley took the angel’s hand, his dark fingers curling around Aziraphale’s soft ones. “I know we can’t keep an eye on _ all _of them,” the angel admitted. “But it seemed like a good way to watch out for as many as we can. Cover our bases, so to speak.”

“Okay.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Just like that?”

Crowley shrugged. “Well, there’s certainly no harm in it, is there? Just one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

Crowley grinned. “It needs to have some style.”

They spent the next few days getting everything ready, only stopping occasionally for a bite to eat. Bit by bit, the haunted bookshop began to take shape. Either of them could simply have willed everything into place, but Aziraphale had insisted that wouldn’t have been as much _ fun_. It was like a magic trick, but even better, because Crowley was there to add a certain amount of flair. _ Style_, he called it. There was smoke and mirrors and all sorts of recorded screams and haunting noises and carefully constructed monsters to pop up out at the visitors with the flick of a switch. Haunting music echoed through the shop, with just enough of a Hellish tinge to be truly terrifying.

The books were all safely tucked away, of course, hidden behind the decorations, carefully protected from any bit of smoke or paint that might go astray, and from the slime that was oozing from several thoughtfully placed cauldrons. A substance that could easily be mistaken for blood dripped from the ceiling. (Aziraphale hadn’t thought to ask what it really was.) Everything was just right – the sounds, the smells, the lighting. It was dark enough to be spooky, but bright enough for their visitors to catch sight of the more frightening elements.

It was _ perfect _.

Crowley rubbed his hands together, flicking off a little paint, as Aziraphale emerged from the kitchenette with a platter full of popcorn balls, candied apples, and little cups of cocoa that Crowley had no doubt would stay steaming hot all night. Crowley plucked a popcorn ball from the tray. “I invented this, you know.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “I remember.”

“Scared the pants off those villagers.”

“And provided them enough food for the winter.”

Crowley waved a hand. “Unintended side effect. And none of them wanted to see another kernel of popcorn by the time the winter was over.”

“Except the kids.”

That was true enough. “They are rather resilient, aren’t they,” Crowley noted. “I mean, look at them. Armageddon comes and goes, and they all just keep chugging along, none the wiser. And look at this.” He swept an arm around the shop. “They like being scared. They _ like _it. They go looking for it.”

“Ineffable,” Aziraphale agreed, glancing out the window at the setting sun. “I think it’s nearly time to open up.”

Their first visitors came in laughing, unintimidated by the plump little bookshop keeper who promised them treats if they made it out of his shop alive. They were _ not _laughing when they came out, but they did accept an apple, a popcorn ball, and a cup of cocoa before scurrying on their way.

They kept it up the rest of the night, Aziraphale welcoming the visitors and gesturing quickly to Crowley, a swift motion indicating which of their surprises might be the most effective. It was hard to read adults sometimes, with all the layers of subterfuge and walls hiding their emotions. Children were easier, and tweens even more so. In and out. Laughter and screams and candy. It was like a dance.

And he and Crowley were pros.

Slowly, the crowds in the street began to dwindle, and Aziraphale realized the entire night had passed without incident. Not a peep from any other angels or demons. Aziraphale smiled as Crowley plucked a candied apple from the tray. Maybe it had been silly to worry, but the demon had never said so. Instead, he’d gone along with the idea, indulged the angel, and even enjoyed himself, because where was the harm?

“No trouble at all tonight,” Aziraphale remarked, closing the doors to the bookshop and choosing a popcorn ball and cup of cocoa for himself.

“Not a peep,” Crowley agreed. “Still, doesn’t hurt to keep an eye open. Might be the sort of thing we could do again next year, just to be sure. Sort of a…”

“A tradition?” Aziraphale offered.

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “That.” He glanced around at the mess. “S’pose we’d better clean up.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “That can wait til morning. I have a surprise for you.”

Crowley followed the angel into the back room, where Aziraphale reached for a book. Then he settled down on the couch, placing his cocoa on the little end table. Crowley immediately sank down beside him, stretching an arm across the angel’s shoulders, peering at the title of the book. “Never read that one,” he remarked offhandedly, knowing exactly what the angel was suggesting.

Aziraphale opened the book. “Oh, then you’re in for a treat. Quite the right mood, too, for the holiday. Cozy?”

Crowley considered that for a moment, then adjusted, lying down on the couch instead, his head resting in Aziraphale’s lap, which was soft and warm and _ very _cozy. Aziraphale ran his fingers gently through Crowley’s hair as the demon closed his eyes. “Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary … and yet somehow lovable.”

Crowley relaxed as the angel’s voice filled the bookshop. A tradition, Aziraphale had said. And why not? God knew – Satan knew – Well, _ somebody _knew they’d started enough holiday traditions over the years.

It might be nice to have one of their own.


End file.
